Let Go
by psiChic
Summary: Only a few days left before Dean's time is up, Sam must decide how far is too far and whether or not he can let go. Lots of angst, would be banter, and limp!ness of certain unfortunate people...Rated T for safety. Most likely AU, spoilers for AHBL2.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N-** This is a multi-chap fic, and each scene will be told from the POV of one of the boys in a different section of the chapter. Thanks to my LLS for the beta and suggestions!! Hope you all enjoy. Reviews make me dance. :D

If I owned Sam and Dean, I wouldn't spend my time writing stories about them...or if I did, they would be _very_ different stories... ;)

**Let Go**

_Let Go of Yesterday- Dean_

The Impala felt good. It's low growl vibrating up his arms and legs, through his body, into his soul. It became his temple, his home, his child. It- no, _she_- had always been that way, lulling her inhabitants into somewhat peaceful sleep. Protecting the family where he could not. A baby Sam strapped up tight in the backseat, a bleeding Dad using the window to prop himself up, a raging Dean beating her so he wouldn't break in front of his brother. It was her job.

Dean had a job too.

He didn't regret it, giving his soul for Sam. Never had, never would. He was his responsibility. Even if it had meant only one more second of life for Sam, he would have made that deal. Dean took his job seriously, knew all the details, and didn't go in blind if he could help it. He was very aware of the conditions. Painfully aware of the fact that if he so much as _tried_ to find a way out, it would mean Sam's death. It had been hard, what with Sam's undying search, to gage where the boundary was without crossing over into "weaseling out" territory. He doubted the demon would let Sam live on technicalities and gray areas, so he found it best to refuse to assist in his brother's late night research-fests. An action that, unfortunately, caused Sam to think he didn't _want_ to live. That he had no problem spending all of eternity as some demon's flaming footrest. This was not the case, as he assured Sam repeatedly, but he wouldn't give the reason _why_ he couldn't help. He'd had too many outbursts of "How the hell could you do something like this?" and "Why did you agree to that?" and "I'm not worth this." from Sam without further knowledge of the deal's specific parameters. He didn't want to go, but he had accepted that he would. Saving Sam had been his life, and damned as he was, it would be his death too. No complaints, no regrets. He liked it hot anyway.

These were the thoughts swirling around Dean's head, occasionally running into random memories of his and Sam's lives. His mother's smile, Sammy's first step, Dad on the ground in the hospital, Sam in his arms, cold and empty. The first night without Sam in the same house, Dad's first hunt, their last hunt, Bobby's accusing eyes and Sammy, alive. Solid and whole and warm. Chancing a glance at his brother, just to make sure he really was still there, Dean decided to break the silence that was filling up his last nights on earth.

"So, uh…you know," Dean started, watching Sam gaze blankly out the window, "this baby gets only the Premium stuff. None of that cheap-assed crap. Hustle more often if you have to, or I might have to send some demons up here to kick your ass." Dean attempted a smirk to go with his idle (and probably impossible) threat, succeeding only in a small half smile that might have been considered cheerful if the look it received wasn't so hostile.

Sam looked as if he was about to cry. Or shoot someone. Maybe both. Dean's joke obviously hadn't landed, as the only thing he could get out was, "That's not funny, Dean…" He didn't even bother rolling his eyes.

Dean understood, but, being the big brother he was (and not knowing what else to say, or more exactly, how to say it), continued on in his gibing, "I know. This is serious. I mean it, Sam. It can't be like that time I let you borrow my bowie knife and you used it to sharpen pencils."

"I didn't borrow it to—it's not like I only—we didn't have any pencil sharpeners!" stammered Sam, then, as if he had suddenly remembered why he wasn't smiling, added angrily, "God, Dean…"

Resigned to the fact that this was not going to be a light conversation, yet relieved that Sam was speaking at all, Dean answered, "What?"

"How can you sit there and make jokes like this? I mean," Sam paused, gathering his thoughts, calming his emotions, "we should be planning. You should be trying to find—you should have been trying all along. Instead you're just acting like it's all fine. Like you don't care, that it's gonna be okay even …"

"Even what?"

"Even though you're leaving me." Sam said quietly, "I mean, how am I supposed to…I can't…"

"Sam." was all Dean said, placing a wealth of emotion in the name, making it seem like the most important word in the English language. Then, after a moment, "Yes you can. Dad trained you, you—"

"That's not what I meant." came Sam's barely audible interruption. He looked as if he was about to say something more, but instead turned back to the window, unspeaking.

Dean, not knowing how to respond, not wanting to think about what this was doing to his baby brother, simply drove on, the suffocating silence returning.

**

* * *

****ooooOOoooo**

* * *

_Let Go of Impossible- Sam_

The Impala felt good. Its low growl vibrating through his body, almost soothing his abused nerves. It had always been a safe haven for him, not the love of his life like it was for Dean, but a place to call home nonetheless. They'd had it for as long as he could remember, and it had had Dean since the beginning. They were made for each other, Dean and his baby. Sam really did like the car, and occasionally the music that went with it, though he'd never admit that to his brother. It had always been there, one of the few constants in his life, and so appropriately forever connected to Dean, to safety. Where the car went, Dean went, it was nearly impossible to imagine one without the other. It was the only home they had left, and gave its occupants everything it had and more. It went over and above the job description.

Unfortunately, so did Dean.

Sam wished he had had a choice in the matter. He regretted not being able to stop Dean from making the deal, regretted the fact that he had gotten himself into the situation in the first place. The situation _being_ being dead. He should have seen it coming, should have made sure Jake was down, should have told Dean it was alright before it was too late. It's not that he _wanted_ to die, or that he wasn't grateful to Dean for once again giving everything he had for him, as he assured him repeatedly. It was the fact that Sam was willing to do the same for Dean, but Dean would never have let him. It was so typically _Dean_ to do something like this, to take the world upon his shoulders and sacrifice yet another piece of himself to make it all better, even if only for a while. Sam loved him for it, but he was determined to carry the weight this time.

To make matters worse, he wasn't helping in any of the research. Sam had spent countless nights over the past year scouring the internet, Bobby's library, even the remotest leads looking for a way out of the deal. And Dean refused to even _try_. It was as if he was hell-bent to do this last great act of protection, distancing himself from any chance of redemption. Sam felt he had been a burden on Dean since their mother died, and couldn't help but think there was so much _more_ Dean had to live for.

These were the thoughts swirling around Sam's head, coupled with flashes of that fateful night when his life ended and his brother's was put on a time table. Walking into the diner, a smell of sulfur, Lily trying to leave and never coming back, Andy dead on the ground. Confiding in Jake, sharp pain, falling, then nothing, Ava using her power and—Sam stopped for a moment, an idea occurring to him when—

"So, uh…you know," came Dean's hesitant voice, pulling Sam from his thoughts, "this baby gets only the Premium stuff. None of that cheap-assed crap. Hustle more often if you have to, or I might have to send some demons up here to kick your ass."

Dean might have been attempting a smirk, Sam couldn't tell as his tired eyes formed a sad glare. Inappropriate joke number six-thousand-twenty-four. "That's not funny, Dean…" He hoped to God it wouldn't be the last one.

"I know. This is serious. I mean it, Sam. It can't be like that time I let you borrow my bowie knife and you used it to sharpen pencils." came Dean's snarky reply, an obvious ploy to keep Sam talking, however annoyed he may be.

"I didn't borrow it to—it's not like I only—we didn't have any pencil sharpeners!" defended Sam, recalling that embarrassing day twelve years ago when Dean had freaked out after finding pencil shavings all over his expertly sharpened security blanket. Sam had had good reason though. He really did need a sharp pencil for his math homework, and he hadn't _planned_ on using the knife for that purpose. At least not exclusively.

"God, Dean…" Sam was about to say it didn't matter anyway, that Dean was the only one who would be worrying about the Impala's gas regimen, when his mind returned to the plan that had been formulating in his head moments earlier.

"What?"

Annoyed that he was once again being pulled from his hope filled thoughts, Sam replied, "How can you sit there and make jokes like this? I mean," he paused, thoughts suddenly shifting to what would happen if he failed, "we should be planning. You should be trying to find—you should have been trying all along. Instead you're just acting like it's all fine. Like you don't care, that's it's gonna be okay even …" _Even if something goes wrong._

"Even what?"

"Even though you're leaving me." Sam said quietly, unloading only half his fears, "I mean, how am I supposed to…I can't…" _I won't._

"Sam." said Dean, telling him a thousand things with a single syllable, "Yes you can. Dad trained you, you—"

"That's not what I meant." _You're all I have._ Dean's words from, it felt like centuries ago, echoed through his mind, encouraging his thoughts, making them real. He'd have to start soon, figure out a way to do it without losing himself in the process…

Sam's mind was working faster than the car, checking and rechecking every aspect, focusing on control, analyzing every detail. The noise in his head was deafening, but time was running out…

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**- Thanks for the reviews everyone! Also to my LLS, who betas like no other. Hope you enjoy this one:D

No. I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

_Let Go of Hope- Dean_

Dean pulled the car into the dark parking lot of a Holiday Inn. It was more expensive, and definitely not as low key as what they were used to, but this wasn't exactly a normal circumstance, if you could call anything in the Winchesters' lives normal. Dean felt that he should be going out in style, sleep on a bed that didn't have lumps the size of Texas, and eat food he didn't have to microwave. Hell, he'd like to _have_ a microwave. And some coffee. And a brunette. Well, she didn't have to be brunette. Blondes, red heads, he wasn't picky. Didn't have to be just one, for that matter…

"What are we doing here?" Sam's voice interrupted his musings on the finer points of the fairer sex. Sam had been acting stranger than normal the past few days, not talking much, zoning out in the middle of the few conversations they'd had. He always seemed lost in thought, as if he was concentrating on something inside himself Dean couldn't (or wasn't allowed to) understand.

"Well, Sammy, this here," Dean pointed for emphasis, "is a hotel. Some people sleep in it when it gets all dark like this. That's called night, by the way."

"Hilarious." came Sam's not at all amused reply. Then he added, "Why are we _here_, at this hotel? Don't you think it's a little reckless, flashing our creds in a chain business? You know, we are wanted by the police…"

"Ah, come on, Sammy, live a little." _It's not like I have much time left anyway. _Sam had a point, the police and that FBI freak Hendrickson were on their tails, but these were his last few days. Besides, imagine the look on Hendi's face, thinking he finally has a line on their whereabouts, only to find the place deserted, no sign of the great Dean Winchester to be found ever again. God, he'd like to see that.

Sam made a noise that might have been a laugh mixed with the word "Yeah." Or it could have been a labored breath. Either way, he wasn't saying anything more, and the glazed look was creeping back into his eyes. Dean suppressed a sigh and got out to go check in.

Ten minutes of flirting, lying, and stealing later, Dean was back to the Impala with a key card and a phone number. He found Sam in the same position he had left him, staring blankly ahead, seemingly oblivious to his brother and the world around him.

"Hey, Frances, think you could brave the danger of breaking a nail and help with the bags?" called Dean, looking, as always, to get a rise out of his little brother. Once again, it didn't work as well as it had in the past.

"What? Oh…yeah…sorry." said Sam as if he had been pulled out of deep thought. He then got out of the car and moved to the oversized trunk to grab his stuff.

Dean watched his brother, taking note of the dark circles under his eyes, the paling complexion, and started to worry. He knew this had something to do with his impending death, how could it not? But Sam was usually the type to talk about his feelings, especially considering the circumstances. Unless…Sam had been secretive when it came to his own well-being, wanting to hide his visions and dreams. Hell, there were still things about his time with the Demon and the other psychics that he refused to tell Dean about. Whatever it was, Dean's big brother instincts were going off, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it before it was too late. _At least he never got the chance to give me gray hair…_Dean thought absently, as he moved to follow his brother upstairs to the last motel room he'd be staying in.

Dean swiped the key card and waited for the little light to turn green. Upon entering, he immediately noticed the coffee machine and microwave in the little kitchenette. "Awesome." he proclaimed, stooping to search the mini bar. "Dude, check it out. There's like, actual _food_ in here…" It had been a long time since they had stayed in a place without roaches for company or some seriously questionable substances living in various corners of the room. This was nice.

Sam either didn't care, or didn't notice, as he gave no indication to show he had even heard him. Instead, he dropped the duffels unceremoniously on one of the beds and retreated to the bathroom.

"No appreciation." Dean said to the empty room with a sigh, then, spotting the TV remote, flopped down on the bed and started channel surfing.

* * *

The next two days went by without great event, Sam spending more time in the bathroom than anywhere else, refusing to leave their room. This gave Dean an excuse to order room service though, something he 'enjoyed far too much to be healthy' according to Sam. He'd also gone down to the front desk to 'ask about the night life in this town', a conversation that ended with him spending one of his last nights with a very bendy blonde with a fetish for—well, even he'd never seen a chair used that way. 

It was coming down to the wire here, and Dean still hadn't had a real conversation with Sam about what he would do next. About anything, really. There was so much he felt he should say, so much he had to make sure Sammy understood, things he'd never had the courage to get out in actual words before. At least not that Sam could remember. He'd thought he'd have a lifetime to show him, now he only had a couple hours.

Dean turned to look at his brother, sitting at the desk with the laptop on, the only other thing he seemed to do nowadays. He was about to say something when Sam stood suddenly and started pacing.

Back and forth he went, muttering incoherently to himself. Dean watched him with a puzzled look on his face, until the repetitive movements started to make him dizzy. "Something you wanna share with the class there, Sam?"

Sam stopped pacing and stared at his brother, a look in his eyes that for some reason sent a chill down Dean's spine. When he didn't say anything though, Dean added, "Dude. Blink or something. You're freaking me out."

Sam gave a small smile, blinked, and resumed his pacing for a few more seconds. Dean was about to stand up and stop him when he suddenly spoke. "There's a crossroads about three miles from here. Old country dirt roads. Haven't been used for years."

Thrown by his brother's sudden return from muteness, it took a while for Dean to process what he had just said. Crossroads. Why the hell would Sam care where there were crossroads? Then it hit him.

"Sam." Dean said with a warning in his voice, "You're not making any stupid-assed deal to save me. I swear to God, you so much as think about it, I will tie you up and leave your ass. I mean it."

"I'm not making any deals." said Sam, with another look Dean couldn't quite decipher. Man he hated not knowing what was going on in that freaky little head of his. Dean still wasn't convinced.

"You're damn right you're not." then, his tone softening, "Look Sam, I get it. I know this is bad. Hell, it sucks out loud. But you've gotta promise me. Promise me you won't do anything stupid, Sammy."

Sam's face managed to harden and look hurt at the same time. "Do anything stupid? Yeah, that's real great coming from you." It wasn't an attempt at banter. It was the old argument coming back at the last hour. This was not how Dean wanted to spend his final moments.

"Sammy…" Dean started, trying his best to make it all better like he used to be able to. "You tried man. And I'm grateful, you don't know how much I—how much it means to me. But I gotta do this, man. So please…just—can we not fight?"

Sam's eyes filled with years of unshed tears. As he looked at him, Dean could feel his heart threaten to stop working a couple hours early. "Sorry." was all he said, moving toward the door.

"Sam. Where are you going?" Dean asked, his back turned.

"I'm just…I need some air. I'll be back in an hour, okay?" then, turning to see Dean's look of disbelief, "I promise. I won't do anything stupid."

With that, Sam was gone. Dean waited exactly ten minutes before grabbing his coat and following his baby brother into the night.

* * *

* * *

_Let Go of Fear- Sam_

Dean was driving, Sam was thinking. They were stopping for the night somewhere in middle America, while his head was a thousand miles away, a routine he'd gotten used to over the years. Sam's mind was once again working in overdrive, sifting through layers and layers of thoughts, plans, and worries. He'd been searching for months, trying to find a loophole in the deal, amulets and various forms of protection found and tossed out upon closer inspection. With the hundreds of demons that had needed rounding up, it hadn't been easy finding time to test methods and theories. But none of that mattered now. It all boiled down to this, came together at this point. Only a few days left, and Sam had a plan.

It was so simple, really. How could he have overlooked it? He'd had the answer all along, flowing through his very veins. The Yellow-Eyed Demon told Dean he wasn't one hundred percent Sam anymore, but the truth was, he hadn't been one hundred percent Sam for a long time. It had seen to that that night almost twenty-five years ago. The mixing of blood – demon and human. His blood. His power. Dean's salvation. All he had to do was flip a switch…

Sam's musings ceased when he realized the car had stopped moving. Looking up, he saw a bright Holiday Inn sign. _What was Dean thinking, stopping at a place like this?_ "What are we doing here?"

"Well, Sammy, this here," Dean felt the need to point, "is a hotel. Some people sleep in it when it gets all dark like this. That's called night, by the way."

Sam was not amused. "Hilarious." he said in his most monotone voice, displaying his supreme annoyance for all the world to see, "Why are we _here_, at this hotel? Don't you think it's a little reckless, flashing our creds in a chain business? You know, we are wanted by the police…" _Can't afford to be arrested._

"Ah, come on, Sammy, live a little." came Dean's reply, the irony of the statement almost making Sam laugh. Almost. Thoughts shifting back to his plans at the mention of Dean's life, he stopped listening and went over the details in his head yet again.

Only half aware of his brother's movements toward the front desk, and no doubt his next date, Sam decided it was time to start thinking about how exactly he was going to pull this off. Ava had said it was a kind of switch, and Jake had changed within a matter of days…the problem was, Sam didn't want to give in completely. He was terrified of losing himself to the darkness, a familiar fear. He had to be careful, had to be in complete control at all times.

Sam sat still, contemplating what it meant to let go, searching his brain for the right trigger. He had to find it in time. Failure was not an option.

Sometime later, he couldn't tell how long, Sam heard Dean's muffled voice outside the car. "Hey, Frances, think you could brave the danger of breaking a nail and help with the bags?"

Pulled from his thoughts _again,_ Sam's tired brain didn't catch his brother's attempt at banter. "What? Oh…yeah…sorry." he managed to get out, as he opened the door with a _creak_ and moved to get his duffels out of the back. He could feel Dean's gaze on him, ever examining, checking for invisible wounds. Just another reason he absolutely _had _to make this work.

Moving on autopilot, Sam made his way up the stairs and down the hall. Realizing he didn't know which room it was, he slowed his pace and let his brother move ahead of him, stopping at room 207. As Dean fiddled with the door, and then started marveling over something in the kitchenette, Sam dropped his bags on a bed and headed for the bathroom. He needed to be alone.

The only way he could think of finding the proper 'switch' was by some sort of meditation. He'd have to research later whether there were any special herbs or incantations that might help the process, though Ava and Jake hadn't needed anything like that…But then there was Andy, who had taken months to develop his powers to the point of becoming a human slide projector. Then again, Andy had been farther along than he when they had first met, too… Maybe it had something to do with choice pastimes…? Sam's head was beginning to ache, and for the first time in his life, he was upset it had nothing to do with the supernatural.

* * *

The next two days were some of the hardest in Sam's life. His mind and body were spent, stretched to the breaking point, making too little progress for Sam's liking. Honing dormant psychic abilities was proving to be just as difficult as it sounded. 

Sam was sitting at his laptop, reading up on supposed 'psychic awakening' rituals. He could tell most of it was a load of crap at first glance, but every once and a while he came across something that at least sounded plausible. For example, he was fairly certain that whether or not he was clothed at the time of psychic activity didn't matter, nor would sending money via special hotlines help much. However, the most common suggestion was a strong mental focus on the goal, and many sources had listed practice and confidence as key components. These seemed to be his best bets, but seeing as he had not even a half a day left, Sam was beginning to worry.

He stood, needing to stretch his legs, go over the plan one last time. He would leave Dean at ten and walk to the crossroads he'd looked up on Mapquest days ago. Tell him he'd gone to the store or something. All the supplies for summoning the demon were packed and ready, all Sam needed was for his body to cooperate. He'd be back by eleven, and by midnight, God willing, this would all be over. The problem of Dean floated back to the front of his mind, and he briefly wondered whether he should let his brother in on his plan. Dean there to calm him down, to bring him back if he went too far, would be comforting and might even help. But if the demon figured out what was going on, he might be dead before Sam could even begin to try and save him. Plus, there was the fact that Dean would never approve of this in a million years hanging over Sam's head, adding to the long list of problems with this plan. It was his only plan though, and he was going to go through with it.

"Something you wanna share with the class there, Sam?" asked Dean, who had apparently been watching him, looking confused.

Sam stopped the pacing he hadn't realized he'd been doing, and looked at his brother with a mixture of fierce determination, excitement, and apprehension etched across his features. Again struggling with the idea of confiding in Dean, Sam said nothing.

"Dude. Blink or something. You're freaking me out." Dean said after a beat, and Sam could see the worry start to seep into his brother's confusion. He must have looked strange, to alarm his brother so easily. Or perhaps it was just the fact that tonight might be…

Sam attempted to smile away those thoughts, resuming his pacing and internal debate. Maybe if he just mentioned one part of the plan, just to see how Dean would take it…Deciding at that second what to do, he said in what he hoped was a casual tone, "There's a crossroads about three miles from here. Old country dirt roads. Haven't been used for years."

Sam could see the expression on Dean's face slide from surprise, to comprehension, to a kind of worried anger he reserved just for him. It wasn't very encouraging.

"Sam." Dean said, his voice tired and angry, "You're not making any stupid-assed deal to save me. I swear to God, you so much as think about it, I will tie you up and leave your ass. I mean it."

Sam knew he meant it. But he wasn't talking about making deals. He'd seen what their father's had done to Dean. Sam would never force that kind of pain on him again. At least he liked to think he wouldn't. "I'm not making any deals." _I'm not planning on negotiating with anyone tonight._

"You're damn right you're not." came Dean's angry reply laced with worry, "Look Sam, I get it. I know this is bad. Hell, it sucks out loud. But you've gotta promise me. Promise me you won't do anything stupid, Sammy."

Sam gazed at his brother, partly hurt that Dean obviously assumed he'd given up, partly angry at him for his double standards. Dean was allowed to be the hero, to save him yet again, when Sam had to be the one to go on alone. "Do anything stupid? Yeah, that's real great coming from you."

Dean looked old. Older than his twenty-nine years should have permitted. He had time in his eyes not fit for men twice his age. When he spoke, it was soft. "Sammy…" he paused, and Sam recalled years of looking into those eyes, of protection, of love, "You tried man. And I'm grateful, you don't know how much I—how much it means to me. But I gotta do this, man. So please…just—can we not fight?"

Sam was back in that hospital room, hearing his father speak the same words to him. The last thing he'd ever said to him, in fact. Sam tried to pick a fight; Dad was walking to his grave. If he had known…no. Sam was determined this would not be the last _anything_ with his brother. Moving toward the door, toward their last and only chance, Sam said softly, "Sorry." _Sorry for Dad, for this, if I fail, if I can't come back, for our lives, for Mom…_

"Sam. Where are you going?" Dean asked from somewhere behind him.

_Where you can't follow._ "I'm just…I need some air. I'll be back in an hour, okay?" Sam lied, turning to look his brother in the eye, "I promise. I won't do anything stupid."

Sam then moved to the door, walked down the hallway, and didn't look back. No regrets. He just hoped this would work.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N- Thanks for the reviews and to everyone who's reading this! I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter. Only one more to go after this. The usual cookies for my LLS/beta. :D

I checked all my possessions. Sam and Dean weren't there... :-(

_

* * *

_

_Let Go of Caution- Dean_

If he hadn't been driving, he would have kicked himself. Hard. How the hell could he have lost Sam so quickly? He'd only waited ten friggin' minutes for Christ's sake! Either Sam had suddenly developed powers of teleportation, or he was losing his touch. Whichever it was, he was screwed.

Dean went over their conversation in his head again and again. One word kept popping up: _Crossroads_. "Dammit, Sam!" He was certain he would have stolen a car to get there, but the street was empty by the time Dean had gotten to his baby. _So he walked?_ Dean asked himself, for the fortieth time. Great. Three miles in any direction. In the dark. Only had an hour. Shouldn't be too hard…

Dean ran a hand over his face and reached for his cell phone. Pressing the speed dial for Sam, Dean waited until the familiar voice message clicked on, swore, and threw the phone into the tauntingly empty passenger seat next to him. "Dammit, Sam!" he exclaimed again. His brother's disappearing acts were taking a toll on him, especially after what happened the last time…

Not wanting to go down that road again, and not wanting to think about what Sam might be doing right now, Dean focused on scanning the highway, trees, and scattered shops going west. Of course, he had no idea if west was the right direction, which promptly pushed him into another round of redialing, throwing, and a few choice phrases yelled at the steering wheel.

Twenty minutes, two changes of direction, and eleven voicemails later, Sam was still nowhere to be found.

"It's those damn giant legs of his, the kid moves like the freakin' Flash!" Dean said wildly to no one in particular, eyes flying over the little brotherless scenery. Then, taking a turn left just for the hell of it, Dean had a thought. Sam had found the crossroads online somewhere, Mapquest probably. A feature he just happened to have on his phone.

"Come on, Dean." he scolded himself, slamming on the brakes and pulling off onto the shoulder.

Reaching down for his phone, which had missed the seat and barreled to the floor in his last outburst, Dean started up the tiny browser and waited. _Dirt roads,_ he thought, and, realizing their names most likely would not be "Old Dusty" and "Road Intersecting Old Dusty to Form a Crossroads My Dumb-Ass Little Brother is Currently Getting Himself Killed On", Dean stopped the browser and dialed Information.

Seven more minutes later, wasted completely on yelling first 'English' into the automated directory, and then 'Dirt Roads' to the apparently new-to-the-area (and deaf) girl on the other line, Dean hung up angrily, the only knowledge gained from the experience being never to call Information again unless you didn't want any _actual_ information.

Now in serious danger of punching a hole through the Impala's window, Dean called the only person he knew in this Godforsaken place, the bendy receptionist from the hotel. Linda? Or was it Abby…? Dean didn't know, and at the moment, he couldn't care less.

"You've reached the Holiday Inn, Amy speaking." came a bored sounding female voice on the other line.

"Amy, right, listen. This is, uh, Jimmy Page. Me and my brother are guests there now and—"

"Jimmy?" Amy's voice perked up immediately, "Oh, hey. You wanna maybe get together again tonight? I've got a couple more tricks here for you, if you're interested."

All methods of seduction lost on Dean when his brother was in trouble, he ignored her and asked hastily, "Listen, do you know if there are any old dirt roads around here? Any that cross each other about three miles from the hotel?"

Amy was quiet for a moment, either stunned or thinking, when she answered slowly, "Well…there's the old Summerset Road that runs near the hotel. I'm pretty sure it intersects with Carson Trail north of here. Not far…could be three miles…Why do you ask? There's nothing on either of those roads but trees and farmland now."

"North you said?" asked Dean, ignoring her question, restarting the car, and turning around.

"Yeah, but you can't get to them by car. They blocked 'em off a couple years ago when they built the new highway, didn't wanna lose toll money or something. What are you looking for out there anyway?" Amy asked again.

"Of course they did," responded Dean, more to himself than to Amy, having not even heard her last inquiry. "Hey, uh, thanks for the info." he added and hung up, cutting off Amy's "Wait! Will I see you tonight?"

Dean floored the gas, heading north. Looking at his watch, he swore yet again after seeing that he had wasted another ten minutes. Sam had said he'd be back in an hour. What if he was already headed to the hotel, a deal made and the clock ticking? Or worse, what if he wasn't…? Dean couldn't handle those kinds of thoughts any longer, and dealt with it by threatening to push the gas pedal right through the steel and carpet.

Minutes that felt agonizingly like hours later, Dean was out of the car and running through thick forest toward the point Amy had said the roads should be.

When the trees finally thinned out and the ground felt hard and dusty under his boots, Dean slowed down and attempted to squint around for any sign of Sam.

It was pitch black.

Silently cursing himself for not bringing a flashlight, Dean hesitantly called his brother's name.

"Sam? Sammy?" called Dean, images of Cold Oak flashing through his mind, causing his pulse to race and his breathing to hitch, "SAMMY!"

Upon hearing no response, _Did you really expect one?_, Dean took out his cell phone in a last ditch attempt to call his brother. Before he could dial, the light from the screen illuminated the few feet in front of him faintly, falling on a large mass lying in the middle of the road.

-------

* * *

-------_Let Go of Restraint- Sam_

Sam was running. He'd changed his pace from a casual walk to a near sprint the second he hit the cold night air outside the hotel. He knew Dean would follow, and had to get as much distance as possible between them. _Stupid,_ he thought to himself, why had he said anything about the crossroads? He would have kicked himself if it didn't mean tripping, falling down, and possible discovery by his brother.

Pacifying himself with half-hopes of Dean believing his lame ass story or not knowing which direction to go, Sam slowed his pace a little and began the focusing exercises he'd read about online. They weren't doing much though, as doubts were starting to spring up, shining accusing spotlights on the holes in his brilliant plan. What if he couldn't do it? What if the demon killed him right on the spot, or worse, decided to kill Dean early for Sam's attempted interference? What if he lost control? What if the demon blood in his veins didn't even matter, and his psychic abilities had disappeared with the Yellow Eyed Demon? He hadn't displayed any abnormal behavior since Dean killed it, no visions, no anything. The 'Demon Army' had been drawn to him all this past year, but that had only served to aid in their fight, keeping the difficulty of finding them at a minimum.

The truth was, he had no proof at all that his brain was any different from Dean's (besides the obvious, i.e. Amy, the 'bendy' and that freakish obsession with food he had yet to grow out of).

Knowing this line of thought would get him nowhere, Sam tried to regain his confidence by telling himself it was the _blood_, not the actual Demon, that gave him his abilities. And if worst came to worst, there were other ways of persuading it to let Dean go. Sam hated to think about that too though, and settled for ignoring the negative and focusing on the positive.

He was also ignoring his cell phone, which had just rung six times in the last ten minutes. Sam finally turned it to silent when the incessant ringing managed to split his focus even _more_, a feat Sam had previously thought impossible.

As he felt the ground harden and saw the trees begin to thin out, Sam clicked his flashlight on and took out the old tin box full of ingredients necessary for summoning the crossroad demon.

Looking around to make sure he was in the center of the intersection, Sam took a deep breath and started digging a small hole in the dust. _Oh God, please let this work_.

Upon finishing burying the box, Sam stood back up and waited, feeling the silence press in around him.

-------

He heard her before he saw her. Startled, Sam spun around and found himself face to face with a beautiful blonde. Her piercing blue eyes turned blood red as a smirk worked its way across her features.

"Another Winchester…tsk tsk… What? You think the third time's free or something?"

Sam didn't answer, his senses working furiously, nerves on end and mind racing. _Come on, Sam. You have to focus._

"Oh _Sammy_," her eyes turning back to blue, "I suppose you want to bargain for big brother's life now, am I right? Prepared to offer me something even more valuable? Your own soul, perhaps? Of course, I should just take you both right now. Walking corpses as you are…"

Finally finding his voice and focusing harder than he had ever done in his life, Sam responded, "No. You're gonna let my brother go. No questions asked. No deals." He tried desperately to keep his voice even, calm, commanding.

"Oh really? And I'll be doing this…why, exactly?" said the girl with an amused smile and a small laugh.

It obviously hadn't worked. Sam was getting worried now, and had to restrain himself from looking at his watch to see how much time they had left. _Maybe it isn't words._ Ava had used her mind, but how long did it take for her to develop? Attempting to quell his panic, he was about to try again when the demon spoke.

"You know, _Sammy_," she said slowly, as if something important and exciting had just dawned on her, "you aren't supposed to be here. That was part of the deal, no trying to get out of it. Dean knows that. If he broke the contract, I can too. I guess I'll just have to take him a little early. My hounds were getting restless anyway…"

As she turned to go, most likely to call the hell hounds and rid herself of the girl's body, several things happened at once:

A pain like nothing he had felt before exploded in Sam's temples, forcing him to his knees.

The girl stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide, red, and unseeing.

The low grumble of the Impala was heard somewhere off in the distance.

-------

It was as if he were split in two.

He felt the sharp pain of his knees hitting the ground, coupled with the quickening pulse, the blood rushing through the girl standing before him. His eyes were shut tight against the throbbing in his head, but he could see clearly out of the red-tinted orbs of the demon. Despite this bizarre occurrence, Sam had only one thought in his head: _Keep Dean alive._ It came from his mind, the girl spoke the words, and the demon obeyed.

-------

He had no idea how long he'd stayed like that.

At some point the demon had been expelled from the girl's body, sent to the deepest corner of Hell. Sam felt it being ripped from her like bones from _his_ flesh, felt the torture that was Hell and, for a moment, completely understood what it was his father, Meg, and so many others had been forced to endure. The pain of a thousand white hot knives piercing both body and soul shot through his temples, sending spasms along his spine and down his arms and legs as a suffocating blanket of despair and hopelessness impeded his every thought, impulse and action, but for one.

A strength Sam never knew he possessed, or perhaps hadn't before now, allowed him to maintain power over the demon. It didn't matter that it might be able to climb back out eventually. Sam's control over it was instantaneous and absolute. Just as with the telekinesis in Michigan, it had come out like a punch, unplanned yet inarguably effective.

The impact of the demon being forced from her body had sent the girl to the ground as well, about ten feet away from where Sam's writhing form now lay.

As his mind remained calm and controlled, his body rebelled violently. The spasms reached an agonizing climax, his empty stomach clenched, threatening dry heaves when suddenly…there was nothing.

He didn't hear Dean's frantic calls, didn't feel his brother kneel to the ground beside him. Sam had given in, pushed far beyond his limits. All that was left was the darkness, beckoning him closer.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the delay. The site's been acting up lately…So here's the final chapter! (if it lets me post this) Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing through all this, and as always to my LLS for the beta. Hope you enjoy:D

Alas, I own nothing.

* * *

------ _Hold On to Redemption, Hold On to Me_

He couldn't breathe.

It was dark, he was afraid, and he couldn't freakin' _breathe._ He couldn't do this. Not again. Not after everything…This wasn't happening.

Dean grabbed his brother, pulling him over, propping him up against his chest. He searched furiously for a pulse, his own heart refusing to beat before he could feel his brother's right along with it.

Sam was cold. Why was he cold? And where was his Goddamn pulse?? Sam wasn't gone. He was never gone. He just had to look harder…

* * *

It was centuries before his searching fingers were rewarded by that blessed _thu-thump_ that was Sammy's heart, his life, his strength. 

"Oh God…" Dean breathed, a single tear threatening to flow down his cheek and into Sam's hair as he thanked whoever or whatever it was (if anything) that kept his family from being completely ripped apart. Relief flooded him as he lowered Sam back onto the road and clicked on the flashlight he'd found on the ground near his brother.

Upon closer inspection, which was much easier now that he could actually see, Dean found no wounds of any kind on his brother's body. He wasn't bleeding, wasn't even bruised. His pulse was racing though, as if he had just run a mile.

_He did just run a mile. Three of them,_ thought Dean, relief turning to puzzlement very quickly. "Then what the hell is wrong with him?" he asked aloud, as if the trees could answer.

A slight stirring sound off to his left had Dean on alert, his hunter instincts kicking into action as he swung the flashlight over to the source of the disturbance. It was a girl. Blonde and pretty, she appeared to have been unconscious like Sam.

Realizing that she had probably been the demon's host, Dean called over to her, "Hey! You okay?"

The girl gasped at the sound of Dean's voice, scrambling to move away as she called back, clearly scared out of her wits, "Who are you? What are—What do you want from me? Where the hell are we?"

"Hey, hey. Easy. I'm not here to hurt you. I uh…I don't know what happened. I was looking for my brother here," he answered, glancing to Sam's still unmoving form, "and found the two of you out here in the middle of nowhere." Dean invented quickly. Well, at least most of it was true.

Not sure if she trusted him yet, the blonde regarded Dean with apprehension, tentatively moving closer to where he and Sam sat (or in Sam's case, laid) in the middle of the crossroads.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked, nodding to Sam.

His attention reverting back to his passed out brother, Dean replied, "I don't know…he seems fine, but…" and then, to Sam, "Sam! Hey, Sammy! Wake up for me, man…"

Still receiving no response, Dean started to get worried again.

What had Sam done? If he had made a deal, why was he passed out and not dead? For that matter, why wasn't _he_ dead? It wasn't midnight yet, but surely Sam's interference would have counted as a breach of contract, sending the hell hounds straight for the both of them…Right?

Confused as hell, but having more pressing matters to attend to at the moment, Dean decided it was time to get them back in the car and back to the hotel. Or a hospital. He hadn't decided yet.

Turning to the girl, who had inched closer during Dean's contemplation, he asked, "Could you uh…help me with him? I gotta get him back to my car, and maybe a hospital. He's kinda heavy. Like, really heavy, actually." Dean gave a small smile, hoping the girl was stronger than she looked.

Hesitating, she answered, "Um…shouldn't we call the police? I-the last thing I remember is walking out of the store…I don't even know where—I mean, shouldn't they be able to help us?"

Dean, realizing this was going to be a problem, said, "Look. The hotel we're staying at is only a couple miles from here. If you want, I'll call the police for you, but I'd rather get my brother taken care of first." Dean took out his cell and began constructing a cover story to tell the cops.

"You're gonna leave me here? Don't you want the police to figure out what happened? What if your brother was poisoned or something?" her eyes widened in fear, "Oh my God! What if _I've_ been poisoned? Like…memory swiping or something? Or terrorists? Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God…" She then began frantically searching herself as if she would find a new tattoo reading 'Evil Terrorist Anti-Memory Poison Injected Here'. She didn't.

Dean rolled his eyes and attempted a calming breath. He didn't have time for this. He still had no idea what was wrong with Sam. And it was almost midnight.

Turning away from the now hyperventilating blonde, Dean tried again to wake his brother. "Sammy. Come _on_, man. I don't wanna have to carry your ass…Wake up!" His efforts went unnoticed, and when he lightly slapped Sam's face and rubbed his knuckles along his sternum gaining no response, Dean's worry tripled.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed, tone full of rage directed at that bitch who had done this, whatever _it_ was, to his little brother.

The blonde thought he was yelling at her however, and silenced herself immediately, inching back away from the venom in Dean's voice.

Patience evaporating quickly, Dean attempted to force a level of calm into his words, "Listen. Do you want a ride or not? I'm taking my brother. I can call the cops for you if you want, but I gotta know _now_." He stressed the last word, praying she got the point.

"I—um…I guess we can call the cops from the hotel, right?" she stammered, probably more scared of Dean now than anything else.

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever." replied Dean absently, shifting his weight and preparing to lift Sam. Then, a little more forcefully than necessary, "You wanna grab his legs, or what?"

"O-okay." said the girl, scrambling to help Dean move the giant that was his brother.

* * *

It was slow work, carrying Sam back to the Impala. Not only was he like, the biggest human on the planet (according to Dean), but the blonde (whose name was Amber by the way) kept dropping his legs and squealing at every sound (real or imagined) on the way to the car. 

It took fifteen annoying minutes for Dean to get back behind the wheel of his baby, Sam lying across the backseat with his head resting in Amber's lap.

The trip to the hotel was quick and relatively painless, though getting Sam back upstairs had proved difficult. Dean left Amber in the lobby, knowing they would have to get out of here quickly now that the cops were involved, and resumed trying to wake Sam.

* * *

Twenty minutes of non-responses later and an increasing anxiety in his chest, Dean began gathering their possessions to split and head for the nearest hospital. 

Glancing at the alarm clock beside his bed to calculate how long Sam had been out, Dean saw that it was five minutes to midnight, five minutes until the demon came to collect.

Frozen, Dean stared as the seconds ticked away. This was it. The end.

"No no no no." said Dean to himself, dropping his bag of dirty clothes and sinking onto the bed next to his brother. _This can't be how it ends…_

There was something wrong with Sam. He couldn't just leave him here, lying unconscious next to his dead body for some maid to find in the morning. And there was so much he had to do, to say…Dean had thought about this moment a lot over the past year, but he had never imagined it ending this way. Sam was supposed to be okay. That was the whole point of this, and now…

Three minutes left, and Dean tried frantically to wake his brother. Shaking, slapping, and calling for him. No response.

Two minutes left, and Dean panicked, mind flying from subject to subject, memory and worry meshed until his heart was about to burst through his chest.

One minute left, and Dean held his breath.

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

A gasp filled the silent room as two brothers stared at each other, one shocked, one triumphant.

* * *

"Sammy?" 

Sam didn't answer, a smile forming on his lips as he sat up and looked from the clock on the table back to his brother, who was still very much alive.

"Sam? What the hell just happened?" asked Dean, worry morphing into relief, then anger.

"It uh…I guess it worked…" said Sam, speaking to himself more than Dean. His smile faltered at the look on his brother's face. _At least he's alive._

"You guess _what_ worked? Sam, what happened…What are you talking about?" Dean was becoming angrier by the second as possible scenarios for how he was still breathing flooded his brain.

"Don't worry about it." was Sam's non-answer. Dean wasn't taking this well, but it could be worse. He could be dead. "You're okay now. That's all that matters."

"What did you do?" Dead said, putting a warning emphasis on every syllable. Then, receiving no answer, "Dammit Sam. What the _hell _did you do?"

Sam's face formed an expression almost identical to that of Dean's the night he'd been forced to tell the truth about his sacrifice. It scared Dean to death.

"You made a deal…" Dean's words held a sadness and defeat that made Sam ache.

"No, Dean. I just…" Sam took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to word it without further freaking his brother out, "I kinda…told the demon to let you go. It was gonna kill you and—I stopped it."

"You _what_?" asked Dean incredulously.

"With my—like Ava, Dean. Remember? I told you about what she could do in Cold Oak? Well…I flipped a switch. The demon…it won't be coming back for you." Sam said the last words with a kind of dark satisfaction, a glint in his eyes that vanished so quickly it might have been imagined.

Dean looked horrified. The Yellow-Eyed Demon's taunts mixed with his father's last words in his ears, deafening him in the silence that followed Sam's explanation. _Flipped a switch._ That's what Jake had said, right before Sammy ventilated him…

"Sammy…" Dean started, not knowing what else to say, how to feel. He looked at Sam, his baby brother, the only thing he had left, and asked softly, "How could you do that?"

Suddenly understanding how it felt to be Dean, on the other side of this conversation exactly one year ago, Sam replied, "What was I supposed to do, Dean? Let you lie down and die? I had to save you, man. I told you. It's my job too."

Dean stared at his brother, seeing the devotion in his eyes, and was filled with a level of gratitude he never thought possible. He didn't know exactly what strings Sam had pulled to allow him this, but he would be there to help pick up the pieces. They had all the time in the world, and that was all he needed to hold on to…

* * *

Sam stared at his brother, watching his eyes soften in gracious understanding. Trying to ignore the feeling of dread and—something…_off_—that was slowly creeping into the back of his mind, he stood up to help pack before the police arrived downstairs. 

Dean was okay. He'd stopped the demon. No matter the consequences, it was worth it... Wasn't it?

-The End-

ooooOOOOoooo

* * *

ooooOOOOoooo

So…there ya go! My first real multi-chap fic all finished. How'd you like the ending? Good, bad, ugly…? Write a sequel? Destroy all evidence of its existence? Stick to art? Tell me, please :D

Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed, you guys are all kinds of awesome!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** The sequel to this story, _Laugh, I Nearly Died_, is now up. For any and everyone wanting to read that. LoL I FINALLY have it started, so enjoy! Sorry for the wait. :D

-PsiChic


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